


Graffiti

by Cartoon_Idiot_59



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 23:40:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17110352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cartoon_Idiot_59/pseuds/Cartoon_Idiot_59
Summary: Sometimes you can ignore the writing on the wall.





	Graffiti

"Look out of the window, Commander and tell me what you see" the Patrician said. 

"The high priest and some acolytes watching a small dog piss on some graffiti. Sir." Commander Vimes answered. 

"You are far too literal, Vimes. I see a delicate machine, poised on the edge of disaster if one small grain of sand gets in the gears. Music with rocks in has the potential to be an entire shovelful of sand."

"It's been a policing nightmare, I can tell you that. We actually had to arrest the senior staff of the University. I thought Ridcully was going to explode! Never seen a man go that purple. We're lucky we don't have an amphibian outbreak."

"Precisely." 

"But, what can we do? Listening to music isn't illegal."

"No, I suppose it isn't. Just keep an eye open Commander."

"Sir."

_________________________________________________________________________

"Here it is sir. There's the resurgence of Omnism, a brand new goddess, and this!" The acolyte pointed to a graffito reading 'Celyn is God'. 

High priest Hughnon Ridcully shook his head. His acolyte was too highly strung. "Young Man, since the eighth prophet Omnism is much less militant. This is a good thing. The young lady proposing a goddess of things that get stuck in drawers is probably on to something. Morporkians may not worry about the state of their immortal souls but they want the corkscrew right now. Good on her, I say. This? Buddy Celyn plays some sort of popular music. Probably just a fan. Nothing to worry about."

"But what if this Buddy Celyn is an aviator?"

"Someone who flies? Never mind, I know what you mean. If Celyn turns out to be a god, then we make room for him. Can't be worse than that little nit* Nuggan." A thunderbolt completely failed to hit Archpriest Ridcully. "I'm under protection, you mustachioed tit!" 

A small dog wandered up to the wall and proceeded to relieve himself on the message.

"There you go lad! Problem solved! If Celyn was a god we'd have roast doggie right about now!" Ridcully's other acolyte, a young monk from the counterweight continent and follower of the way of the path of the road or something like that seemed ill at ease. Had a thing about urinating dogs. Probably cultural.

 

In a few days the point was moot because none of this had happened anyway.

 

 

*As high priest Ridcully had to work with the gods. He didn't have to like them.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I saw a picture of Eric Clapton in his office and this happened in my head. Probably go over as well as my BOC work. Oh, well.


End file.
